


Pound of Flesh

by WrensThrenody



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Graphic Depictions of Wounds, Introspection, Nightmares, This is slightly weird ill be honest, based off of a song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 15:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11717319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrensThrenody/pseuds/WrensThrenody
Summary: Zarkon reigned for over ten-thousand years. He ruled for ten-thousand years and didn’t regret a thing.





	Pound of Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thanks for checking out my fanfic! The song this is based on is called Pound of Flesh by Regina Spektor and the link is here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LRUIiwaS0_4 
> 
> Just warning, graphic depictions of wounds, internal organs and burns, also nightmares!

Zarkon reigned for over ten-thousand years. He ruled for ten-thousand years and didn’t regret a thing.

He didn't regret showing the other planets true strength. He didn't regret having to kill for strength and power. It was a small price for immortality.

The actual price for immortality was looking back, looking at how much things have changed and wishing for something that would never happen: for things to go back to the way of old, when it was simpler and easier. Alas, time goes on, with or without you.

Zarkon wondered what it would be like to grow old, to not have so much responsibility. His bones and muscles and heart and skin were weary and sore in this body that was kept the same. They yearned for the sweet release of death, and even though his mind’s greed powered through this melancholy, he felt the longing in the back of his head.

 

“Alfor…” Zarkon breathed.

Why was his friend on his bed?

“You seem to be bed bound, my old friend.” Alfor smiled. “Have you read anything new recently?”

“Alfor?” Zarkon asked.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing here?” Zarkon took a breath and collected his thoughts. “I thought… you were dead.”

“Zarkon, have you been having fever dreams?” Alfor smiled his normal (wrongwrongwrong), charming smile, and grabbed Zarkon’s hands with his own cold ones. “I’m alive, see?”

 

Zarkon opened his eyes.

“Alfor,” Zarkon sighed, “what are you doing on my bed?”

“I am simply making sure that you are okay, my old friend.”

Zarkon’s heat felt a prick.

Alfor continued. “Have you read any new books whilst off duty? What about my own?” He smiled cheekily.

It looked wrong.

“No,” Zarkon deadpanned.

“Your loss!” Alfor shrugged. “Say, old friend-”

A sharp stinging pain encompassed his heart. Zarkon kept a straight face.

“-I have a favor to ask.”

“What is it?”

Alfor shrugged off his scholar’s robes and uncovered his back. There was a hole right over his heart, all jagged and exposed. His ribs and a bit of his heart was shown through the cavern and the surrounding area was a nasty, burnt black, fading into a blistered ruby red.

“Could you spare a pound of flesh?”

“God, my friend, what happened?” Zarkon asked alarmedly. “Of course, take a pound of flesh! Take two! After all, what’s a pound of flesh among friends like me and you?”

Alfor smiled at him again (Zarkon’s instincts rang loudly in his head, screaming _DangerDangerDangerflee_ ) and ripped through his ribs to grab Zarkon’s heart.

 

Zarkon didn’t regret the things he had done to get power, nor did he feel sorry.

All he felt was strangely empty empty as he continued the day, as if the Alfor who ripped out his heart wasn’t a dream.

 

Perhaps, just maybe, Zarkon did lose his heart that day.

_After all, what’s a pound of flesh among friends?_

**Author's Note:**

> Once more, thank you for reading this fanfic! I hope you enjoyed it in all of its weirdness!


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